


On The Wings of The Blue Bird

by ratafia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Animal Death, Animal Transformation, Background Relationships, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean Winchester, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Coming Out, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Implied Switching, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Internalized Homophobia, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Other, Queerplatonic Relationships, Russian Mythology, Season/Series 13, Season/Series 13 Spoilers, Slavic Mythology & Folklore - Freeform, Temporary Character Death, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Castiel (Supernatural), Wing Kink, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-06-28 19:06:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19818643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratafia/pseuds/ratafia
Summary: Dean has had enough. So, he finally does it. He tells Cas about his feelings and it's perfect... Except they never get to be alone. Something has to be done about that, and this case might be just what they both need. A chance for the new couple to get away, to talk it all out, sort their feelings out... get laid, a lot.Which is how they end up tangled in the mysterious monster's game, where nothing and no-one is what they seem to be. Fears, betrayal, desperate hope and magic... Dean and Cas have to fight through all of that and more, just to stay alive. But this time, they have all the motivation they need - a chance for true happiness. Together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nera_Solani](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nera_Solani/gifts).



> This is something, that was meant to be a short and sappy one-shot. Just a little fluffy thing to fulfill a craving, and the prompt.  
> This grew into my most ambitious project yet. Where not only Cas, but I could stretch my wings and try out new things. Where I can finally use, properly use, all the Slavic folklore I wanted.  
> This work is finished and contains 6 chapters overall. I'll post weekly, but everything is done and just waiting to get to the reader, so no worries about delays. :)  
> Was written for a prompt by [Nera_Solani](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nera_Solani/pseuds/Nera_Solani) on the [Profound Bond Discord Server](http://discord.profoundbond.net/):  
>  _"I've seen a lot of "there's a case at a couple's retreat so we gotta do the fake relationship thing" fics, but give me a fic with disgustingly in love established Destiel who have to go on a case in a couple's retreat. Just to change it up, you know_  
>  _Bonus points if there's a swimming pool scene and lots of shameless flirting involved"_
> 
> I hope you'll like the results! <3 
> 
> A big, big grateful shout out to my lovely betas [insominia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/insominia/pseuds/insominia) and [oceaxe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceaxe/)! And my eternal gratitude to all my alpha readers, who helped make it better and cheered me on. Aless, Lulue, without you, this would never have seen the light of day. To you and everybody on the PB, Thank You. <3 
> 
> Now, a little bit of logistics.  
> This is canon compliant until 13x06, where Dean makes a very different choice in words and actions. You probably don't need to watch it all the way to there, as the fic touches very little on canon and revolves mostly about the case and their relationship.  
> As this fic features a lot of Russian dialogue, some chapters will be posted in duplicate. One version will not contain all the original dialogue, but only it's translated English version, other will contain it all. Your choice which one to read, they are identical in content otherwise and will be posted at the same time.  
> I am Russian myself, so I always wanted not only to use our myths and fairytails but our language as well. This is why I'll post the doubles, for everybody like myself, and for everyone curious about the language.  
> There's also quite a bit of different styles of text, that will indicate:  
>  _all in cursive_ \- flashbacks,  
> dialogue in <<"quotations like that">> \- translated from Russian, or another language (indicated which). You'll see a lot of such dialogue in duplicate versions of chapters, where the characters converse in Russian.  
>  **bold text** \- song lyrics, either sang or spoken.  
> text in [["quotations like that"]] - texting between characters.

Dean is so tired of pretending. Of keeping it all in out of fear, out of some old misconceptions that never were truly his. He is tired and he is hurting; a bleeding, aching wound exists where his heart is supposed to be, but was burned away with the blinding light in Cas' eyes. It was carved out with that blade that pierced Cas’ chest. He lost it as he has lost Cas, finally, _finally_ realising, way too late as he always does, that fear and shame are not worth holding on to. Cas was worth it, but now he is gone. And all Dean is left with is the bleeding, aching hole in his chest and a sinking feeling of the pointlessness of it all.  
And then Cas is back.  
His voice in the phone’s speaker is so sudden that Dean doesn’t believe it at first. He doesn’t believe as he races to the Impala, as he drives like crazy to the meet point. He can’t allow himself to believe unless he sees the proof with his own eyes and knows that this isn’t another lie, another dream.  
But here they are, in a dirty alley in the backwoods of nowhere and Cas is stepping out of the phone booth, as Sam’s still getting out of the car. But Dean doesn’t care for his brother right now, his whole being attuned to Cas.  
He stands there, alive and whole, as if Dean hadn't burned his body. As if he hadn't wailed his grief to the unsympathetic skies that stayed silent. He is back, he is _right there_ , and Dean is so tired of pretending.  


"I don't even know what to say,” mumbles Sam in stunned amazement.  


"I do," says Dean, his heart in his throat, beating so fast he’s afraid he’s having a heart attack.  


Maybe he is. He couldn’t care less and he steps forward on shaky legs. To simply kiss his angel, whom he loves so dearly, has loved so dearly for so long.  
He doesn't really care about the spectators right there, doesn't care for Sam or possible random passers-by. His only need is to express the love and happiness overflowing from that gaping wound that is healed, as always, by the blessed touch of Castiel.  
Castiel, who at first freezes under Dean's hands gripping the lapels of his trenchcoat, trying to haul Cas closer. With that confused head tilt Dean always finds utterly adorable, Cas stands, unmoving, so Dean has to move.  
That is probably rather poetic, because it has always been him who refused to budge, to acknowledge the profound bond they always had. And he has to be the one who breaks the unspoken standoff.  
Dean feels his tears running down his cheeks with relief when Cas' lips open up with a soft surprised sound. His mouth is curling into a little smile. Then Cas is moving too, kissing too, the sweet taste of his lips tinged with the salt of Dean's tears he cannot, would not hide any longer.  
His angel is back.  
More so, he is right here in his arms, smiling, lips and cheeks both pink. The bluest eyes looking up at him in amazement and relief. Strong arms resting securely on his back. And through it all, Dean is far too happy to care about the chick flick moment, for the stunned silence of his brother - he has his angel and that is all he needs.

"I love you, Cas."

He speaks the words with all the conviction and sincerity that he has, with all the desperation of the weeks without Cas, with all the pent up longing of the years before. He hears Sam choking on a laugh, but his eyes are glued to Cas. Cas, who looks a little startled, with brows high and eyes searching Dean's face for something. Dean feels vulnerable, his big, dark secret finally exposed to the light. The light that shines from Cas’ blue eyes, piercing him with a glance down into his very soul, it seems. And Dean isn't sure if his little sob is what’s needed, is what his angel is looking for. But whatever it was, it has the angel smiling wide and breathing out in a hurried rush of stuttered breath. And then squeezing Dean in a bone crushing embrace with just a little bit too much of his angel strength behind it. As if Cas is so happy he can't quite control himself. And that thought brings with it a wave of shivers down Dean's spine, anticipating heat coiling low in his belly. Cas chuckles dark and promising in his ear, holding him even closer.  
He withdraws just a little, catching Dean's eyes again, warm palm cradling his face, the intimacy of it making Dean's stomach flutter.

"I love you, Dean."

They separate from the kiss that follows only when Sam starts begging for them to get a room. He looks mortified and keeps mumbling about brain bleach. Even with all that, his brother looks happy for them, and Dean was never more glad to stop pretending; long seated shame and fear slowly dissipating from his soul.

*

Dean wants to get Cas moved into his room pretty much as soon as they get home to the bunker. He wants to stick to Cas with permanent glue and never let him go. But it is not possible and probably way too much, way too soon.  
So he thumps down his frantic heart and watches the Cas’ reunion with Jack. It’s much easier not to hate Jack quite so much after he, however accidentally, returned his angel to life. And maybe that relieved, happy smile Cas shines with when he’s hugging Jack, maybe that makes it worth it to go a little easier on the kid. (Especially when he goes for the winning strike and sends them right to cowboy central for a case.)  
But that first night with Cas back, when Dean settles in his bed and the angel just stands there by his side, unsure whether he should stay or go, Dean’s heart skips a beat.

"Come on, Cas, get in here. We don't have all night."

"Dean, I don't sleep."

"Well, I do. And... I want you close."

The please is there, unsaid but still heard, blue eyes trained on him, softening. Then, finally, Cas is shrugging off that blasted trenchcoat and the shoes, tie and belt. He pauses uncertainly with the rest, fingers still on the buttons of his shirt. But Dean is already grabbing his hand to drag him under the blankets.  
They settle, Dean draped over his angel, with terrifying ease finding the perfect position. As if they always do this - lay so intertwined he can hear a steady beat of Cas' heart in his chest. The rising and falling of the ribcage with measured breaths, unneeded but so soothing. Because Cas is there, whole and alive, warm and solid, not the pale lifeless corpse that has haunted Dean's dreams every night before.  
Dean doesn't realize he’s crying until there is the ephemeral feeling of feathers all around him. A smooth glide of tickling energy along his skin, hugging him closer in silent comfort.  
"I am here, Dean. I’ll watch over you. Sleep."  
And he does, fingers clutched onto Cas shirt. Wet face buried in his neck. Cas’ heartbeat in Dean’s ears and his angel's wings around him.

*

It is almost heaven after that. With Cas back, safe and in mint condition, even more so--Jack had managed to restore his wings to their former glory, it seems--and Dean should be happy. Yet there is just no getting away in their line of work.  
Even though he refuses to let go of Cas, insisting they do each and every case together, no matter how minor, Sam and Jack, one or both, keep tagging along.  
Even in the bunker they can't be left alone long enough, work and other responsibilities are always looming on the horizon. All Dean wants is to just get at least a few days alone with his angel.  
A few quiet uninterrupted days, where they can just lay in bed together, tangled with each other, trading kisses and touches. Where they can maybe watch stupid day TV, gorging on snacks; well... Dean gorging and Cas watching him, which is totally alright in Dean's book. Maybe they’d go for a walk, or, God forbid, a date even, burgers, or that fancy Italian pasta he once saw an advertisement for. Surely Cas would enjoy the atmosphere at least, if not the taste.  
But he just doesn’t know how to go about it. Dean never was good at this relationship stuff, and the thought of screwing something up with Cas? After he finally found the courage to go for it with him? It isn’t something that Dean can afford to risk. He is sighing his frustrations into a beer bottle in his Dean-cave, when Sam walks in, taking in the picture and the atmosphere pretty quick. 

“Wanna talk about it?” 

Dean glares at his brother, who is already in that “lay your troubles on me” mode, but the offer, strangely, is enticing this time around. So he sighs again. 

“I don’t want to screw this up,” Dean finally grits out, forcing Sam to lean closer to hear, his face showing only a careful and attentive facade. The one that he uses on traumatised witnesses usually, to gently weasel all the info out of them. 

“Screw what up, Dean?” 

“Cas! That… thing… that we have. Us.” 

He buries the end of his mumble in a long swig from the bottle. It is the last one, but he keeps fiddling with the label, needing something to focus on besides the imploring eyes of his brother. 

“Well, let’s start with what you want to do, then?” 

“Everything!” Dean almost yells. The nervous energy of the conversation forces him to stand, pacing around Sam. And he talks, rushed, afraid that if he doesn’t let it all out now, he never will. “I want everything with him, you know. He… Cas. I just don’t wanna spook him. Don’t know how to go about it. What is the protocol on dating an angel even? _Are_ we dating? _Should_ we be dating? I don’t know anything, but I want it, want him, Sam. So much.” 

Dean finishes on a whisper, hand over his face, hiding and frustrated and afraid. Sam, though, stands up beside him, settling both hands on his shoulders, making Dean face him. 

“You two should talk. Really talk. Tell him what you just told me. Listen to what he has to say too. And maybe… Go somewhere where you could be alone for a bit? Until you settle it all.” 

It sounds reasonable, mature. Talk. Discuss. Nothing at all like what Dean usually does, so it must be some good advice. He nods, resolving to step out of his own way and deal with the roiling mess of emotions in his chest in a way he hasn’t before. With the person causing them. With Cas. But first he needs to find a place, an occasion. “Alone for a bit” rings in his head as he retreats to his room, going straight for the laptop and starting the research. “To settle it all.” 

*

His internet searches, for some reason keep linking him to a couples‘ resort, which apparently is ideal for what he wanted. His inner battle against anything labeled as chick flick, as goods and services marketed for couples, quickly dies, though, when he sees one of the ads.  
"Cloud Nine Resort will deliver you and your partner to a better place right on this Earth! Inclusive, remote, with attentive staff and various activities available for your enjoyment, we are located at the stunning Lake of the Clouds, Michigan. Come and rest in our little slice of Heaven."  
And while all the heavenly imagery grates a bit on Dean's nerves, the photos look simply perfect. Forests and mountains make it a remote, less travelled location, the lake's blue surface inviting the onlooker to take a dip, its color reminiscent of Cas' eyes...  
And numerous reviews show that this resort is indeed very inclusive, with a zero tolerance policy for discrimination against the gender or even the number of partners you arrive with. But Dean's curiosity is truly piqued when he searches for recent local news and finds an alarming number of mysterious disappearances and deaths right in that very resort. Couples‘ disappearances.  
A plan is already forming in his head while he hit the research for his new favorite case.

*

_As Castiel was packing, two days before the trip, his solitude was interrupted with the appearance of Sam. He walked in with purpose, right off the bat offering to lend a hand when he noticed what Castiel was doing._

_"Oh you're packing, let me help."_

_Castiel was picking up his new and freshly washed clothes for the new case from the pile and threw Sam a sideways glance._

_"I'm perfectly capable, Sam."_

_Despite the obvious, Sam simply waved him off and stepped fully into the room, making it instantly smaller with his height, no matter the actual layout of the space._

_"Dude, come on. Let me help. We can chat too."_

_"Oh," Castiel paused in his folding, remembering that tradition of family members giving the "shovel talk" to new romantic prospects and partners of their loved ones. It was somehow gratifying, to be included in such tradition, even if he was a little surprised that Sam would require to confirm the obvious yet again._

_"Of course, you are concerned about the progression of my relationship with Dean, because he's your brother. I will treat him right, Sam."_

_Castiel looked Sam in the eyes with all sincerity, meeting only a confused smile. But it was a pleased one too, even though the course of their talk got a little perplexing for Castiel after that._

_"I... know you will, Cas. You always do already."_

_"But you're worried about something still..?"_

_"No! Yes... Maybe? No."_

_Sam floundered, grabbing for one of the shirts nearby, Dean's actually. Castiel didn't protest when it got folded and settled into his bag, giving Sam the time to collect his thoughts. He was silent, folding and chewing on his bottom lip, and Castiel started to worry this was much more serious than he originally thought._

_"Perhaps you don't think of me as a worthy partner for him? Because I'm not human? Or that my vessel is male? I can..."_

_"NO! No no no no No!" The barrage of denial came swift and empathetic, Sam waved his long hands around frantically. He stopped in his floundering with a long sigh and ran his fingers through his hair, straightening them up as much as disheveling at the same time. Seemingly having come to some decision, he looked at the angel with a very pointed stare, as if willing to telepathically convey the importance of his words._

_"Cas. Please, believe me, I'm thrilled that Dean finally got his head out of his ass and admitted his feelings for you. I couldn't be happier for you two. And you're like a brother to me. I totally support you."_

_"Oh. Thank you. I think of you as a brother as well, Sam." The large palm of the human on Castiel's shoulder did feel like acceptance, and he relaxed just a bit, patting Sam's forearm in return._

_"Cool. Cool..."_

_But Sam had mumbled, and, after releasing him, returned to folding, even though they both knew that Castiel's bag was full and ready._

_"But something is still bothering you."_

_"It's just..." Finally, finally, Sam turned, ready to address the issue that was actually the reason for all this conversation. "Dean was never good at expressing his emotions, his desires. He always wants to do what he thinks will please other people."_

_"I am aware of that, yes."_

_Castiel truly was aware. As endearing and commendable that quality could be, it also often left Dean without much joy for himself, which always saddened Castiel. And it seemed he wasn't the only one who shared that sentiment._

_"Well. Good, I hope you'll be able to convince him that it's okay to just enjoy stuff from time to time."_

_"I... think I understand. I will do my very best, Sam."_

_The angel gave his best reassuring smile, truly intending to work on it with all that he had. He wanted to make Dean happy._

_"Good, Cas. Thanks." Sam relaxed too, tension releasing from his broad shoulders, and with a satisfied nod he headed for the exit. But not before throwing a half-joking remark over his shoulder._

_"And Jesus, so glad you'll be out of here for a bit. I was getting tired of walking in on you all over each other all the time."_

_"Well, didn't you just say that you wish for Dean to be more selfish and pursue his desires?"_

_Castiel just barely managed to hold onto his laughter as a reddened Sam practically flew from the laundry room, no doubt cursing himself for even bringing the topic up. Castiel, however, was truly pleased to have his support and approval. Not only for himself, but for Dean as well, who always held the opinions of his brother in such matters in very high esteem._

*

It is very unsettling not to be driving. Even more so, when they are driving in Cas' car. Everything feels wrong to Dean: the sounds, the seats, the rhythm of the movement, even how the angel shifts the gears.  
Dean knows it has more to do with his separation anxiety from Baby, who he left in the tender care of Sam and Jack so they had a dependable means of transportation. Also, the Impala is rather conspicuous and they can't risk getting exposed as hunters too soon. So, to distract himself from the discomfort, Dean decides to indulge in one of his new favorite pastimes. Precisely - staring at his beautiful angel, unobstructed and without the need to avert his eyes if anybody notices. Now he can stare, and look his fill, and gawk, and leer all he wants.  
It is perfect.  
So he shifts more comfortably in the seat, and does just that. Traces the curves of Castiel's face with his stare, the strong angle of the jaw and barely-there stubble, the line of the nose, the one blue eye that he can see from here, trained studiously on the road.  
Cas is so, so beautiful, in every sense, and any word Dean's less-than-eloquent mind could produce seems simply insufficient.  
He remembers, instead, their last attempt at "joining" as Cas would call it, and what in Dean’s world was a very simple and very hot "quickie". 

*

_They were still in the bunker, just one day before the trip left. They were supposed to be packing. Cas was helping, of course. He was done with his own bags, and now was moving across Dean's room, picking up clothes and weapons. Dean was in the mood, however._  
_He was always in the mood; nearly always, anyway, after that first kiss. It was like a switch had been flipped and all his nerves and desires that had been so long ignored surfaced in one mighty wave. He figured they had a lot of time to make up for, so they had to do what they could, when they could. They definitely could try and do something right now._  
So he trapped Cas near one of the closets, hugging him from behind and closing the door. So he could press his angel right into the door, and so he could press himself into the angel. Cas was already dressed for the road, only a soft t-shirt and some new jeans, and it was driving Dean crazy. He looked so domestic, so at home. In Dean's space.  
He didn't protest when Dean sucked a hungry hickey into his neck, just arched his head back, giving him more space. He moaned, quiet and long, when Dean took that space and proceeded to leave bites and kisses along the arch of that exquisite throat.  
They didn't even undress. No time, no need; urgency and desire fueling them both, especially when Cas ground his hips back, right into rapidly hardening Dean's dick, still trapped in his own jeans.  
Until there was a hesitant voice at the door, totally ruining the moment. 

_"Um... Sam told me to give this to you."_

_"Jack, for the love of....?!! How long were you been standing there?!"_

_"Not... very? Sam said I should put it straight into your hands, so I figured I'd... wait."_

_And while Dean was scrambling to get decent, trying to cover his prominent erection with his shirt, Cas just moved slightly away. He stilled there, unmoving and silent, his face unreadable, the awkwardness of the situation intensifying by a second. Dean made a mental note to teach Jack to knock, at least. And maybe Dean had to be more careful with actually closing the doors in the future._

_"I'll go take a shower, I think,” Cas announced with unsettling nonchalance and flapped away in the presumed direction of the bathroom. Leaving Dean with the kid. Alone. After him just witnessing... that._

_"Here." Jack was the first to break the silence, finally handing over the object he was sent with. Which turned out to be a gun, so yay for Sam's responsibility. Not so much yay for the kid's apparent total lack of propriety._

_"Thanks... And. Um. Just for the future, if you see people having sex - look away! And don't have sex where people can see it. Unless everybody gave their prior consent to that thing... and the watching. Got it?"_

_"Yes, Dean, I apologize."_

_He looked remorseful, at least, if not embarrassed, but that would have to do. Dean turned to his bag to pack the gun away, figuring that the conversation was over, but when he looked up, Jack was still there. He looked conflicted, as if wanting to say something, but unsure if he should._

_"What it is now, kiddo? Come on, while we're still here."_

_"It's just..." he frowned, looking even more at odds with the words he clearly needed to get out. Dean sighed and plopped himself on the bed, patting the space beside him, so the kid sat too. It looked to be something serious enough, so he might as well be sitting._

_"Whatever it is, just say it, Jack. Trust me, keeping it down all the time? No good for you."_

_Weirdly, Jack brightened up at that, as if Dean accidentally hit the nail right on the head. Somehow, Dean was not so sure it was a good thing, though._

_"So you understand? It's really no good for Cas."_

_"Cas...? Is Cas not saying something he wants to?"_

_Dean was immediately alarmed, a thousand and one scenarios emerging in his head where Cas was actually not as happy as he seemed, and was just pretending for Dean's sake, or that he was sick, or..._

_"Yes! With his wings! Maybe it's.... weird for you, because you're not angel? Is this why you don't touch them?"_

_Under Jack's earnest and worried gaze Dean realized he had no idea what the kid was talking about. He knew, of course, that when Cas returned from the dead he was back fully, wings and all the mojo intact, but he wanted Dean to... touch them? Why hadn’t he heard a word about it?  
He needed to know more, and if that meant having a potentially extremely mortifying conversation with his sort-of-adopted half-angel baby, so be it._

*

“Hey, Cas? Do your wings ever get in the way?”  
Dean is bored, so he talks, and really, Jack’s questions have left him with a few of his own that he’d really like answered.  
“In the way of what?”  
“I don’t know… things. Stuff. Sitting, walking, can you even feel them or are they just… in your head, sorta?”  
Cas chuckles, eyes still on the road, but his expression adopts a thoughtful quality, as if he is remembering something.  
“I can feel them all the time, but they don’t get in the way, unless I want it. They mostly exist in a sort of parallel dimension, unseen and not interacting with this one. Again, unless I want it.”  
Dean doesn’t miss the wistful smile of Cas when he talks about it. He knows, knew for a long time, that his angel gave up more than a job or a home for him. Cas gave up a literal part of himself to support Dean and fight his battles. He promises to thank Jack again for returning that part to Cas, because it is clear how important it is to him. 

“So, nobody can harm them unless you want it? Or touch them? See them?” 

“It depends…” Cas is silent for a moment, thinking it over, glancing at Dean in curiosity, but he doesn’t question the sudden interrogation. “They are usually safe, unless my opponent is very strong or attacks my grace directly. As to the touch… If it’s not done with harmful intent, and from somebody I trust… It can work. I can also bring them closer to this reality at will, if needed.” 

That settles that, and with a new nugget of extremely useful knowledge and some fuel for more fantasies, Dean settles back into the seat, wishing he could just nap the rest of the way.

*

After arriving at the resort, with bags still in the car for now, Dean finds himself nodding to the rhythm of the [surprisingly pleasant song](https://youtu.be/TRIR5S1sK38?t=21) playing in the lobby. He can’t understand a word, but the music flows with familiar rock riffs and voices of the singers are full of longing and desperation that only lovers know.

"Ha, I wonder what they're singing about..."

It’s just an off-hand comment, as he stands bored, waiting for the clerk to show up, but of course Cas being Cas and knowing every language on earth decides it is a perfect time to show off.

 **< <"Oh how could I, how could I fail**  
**To stop myself, or you.. Today**  
**I howled so loud, missing you,**  
**I miss you... Throw something on." >> **

His voice, deep and calm is so odds with cries of the song, with the meaning of his words, yet when Dean turned around he sees it all in Cas' eyes. The quiet fire burning, beckoning Dean closer to come and turn to ashes in its heat.

**< <"Who are you? - who took my life.**  
**And never gave it back.**  
**Who are you? - who drank my blood.**  
**And got drunk on it.**  
**Your eyes are calling me, wanting me,**  
**Leading me after you.**  
**Who are you? Whoever you are...**  
**I won't give up without a fight." >>**

"That's... ah..." - he stumbles, almost falling over himself. Every line of the song and the intensity of Cas so close to him, it feels to Dean like a serenade. He almost forgets that they are actually working, they’re in a public space. Dean's heart races and shivers run down his arms and back, up his neck.  
"That's an incredibly close translation! Do you speak Ukrainian?"  
A chipper voice rings out way too close and way too loud for Dean's liking. He's already so close to kissing Cas senseless, to drinking those enticing words from his lips, Ukrainian or whatever they could be. And Cas actually has the gall to smirk, clearly translating Dean’s emotions as easily as he did the song. He turns to a young woman waiting patiently behind a counter, beaming with an amused smile.

"Yes. I speak all the human languages."

"What he actually means, is that he speaks quite a lot of them! Right, Cas?" Dean discreetly kicks his too-earnest angel in the foot. He keeps a slightly strained smile on his face, one turning a lot more genuine and flustered when Cas decides to retaliate by holding his hand and interlocking their fingers.

"He’s a professor, you know how they can get, always needs to be the smartest guy in the room."

The clerk chuckles, nodding obligingly, her gaze raking over their hands briefly. It makes Dean automatically defensive. No matter how supportive their family seems to be, no matter how inclusive this place is made out to be, it is hard to battle every trained instinct, yelling at Dean to hide, to not show, to not feel. Sensing his unease and quickly growing tense, Cas takes the lead in the conversation. Chatting amicably with the woman, even making her laugh at some language joke that goes totally over Dean’s head.  
His hand, however, never leaves Dean's, squeezing it tight and solid, his thumb rubbing in soothing circles. It helps, keeping Dean just above the surface of panic, keeping him smiling, standing, and not running for his life and sanity. But he is still immensely grateful when Cas finally leads him away from the desk, after the clerk gives up the keys to their cabin with honestly an excessive amount of directions and pamphlets.  
The second they are outside in relative solitude once again, Dean is enveloped in a tight hug. The silent comfort makes him bury his face in Cas' shoulder, for once free of the accursed coat, covered only in a light parka over a t-shirt.

"We don't have to do it that way if you're uncomfortable, Dean. I told you, it does not matter to me if we are... public. Knowing that you are mine is more than enough."

He knows it’s meant to be comforting, Cas trying to chase away his fears, as always, his own guardian angel. Always there to pick up the pieces, to put Dean and everybody else above himself. But this time it only makes Dean ugly-snort, clutching onto Cas tighter, breathing him in deep. The dust of the road and the last batch of Tide from the bunker, gasoline from the car and something just uniquely Cas; unearthly, crisp and bright. The mix quenches the thirst Dean didn't know he had but that now is raging in his heart.

"Well, it's not enough for me."

Cas stills under his hands, before trying to coax him into lifting his head and looking at him, and probably have a proper talk or something. But Dean just steps away instead, breaking the contact between them. He shuts his eyes for one long deep breath, before offering Cas a hand-- instantly taken--and a weak, pleading smile he knows won't work that easy.

"Let's do what we came here for first, yeah? And then have all the heart to heart you want."

Cas measures him with a worried gaze that scrapes on the scars of Dean's soul, guilt rising up as bile in his throat, bitter and overwhelming. So he swallows it and tugs Cas along the gravel path, away from the main building. They fall into step naturally, so used to being around each other, but this time closer. Their shoulders brush, fingers intertwine, touching with every step and it feels good. It feels right.

"Also, I hope you're watching where we're going because I totally missed the whole ‘directions’ convo."

"Yes, Dean, do not worry. You won't get lost with me."

That feels right too, and Dean just nods along, allowing himself to relax just a little bit, to take in the sights around. To simply trust Cas to not lead them astray, to not let him stumble and fall. And even if he does... His angel will be there to catch him, Dean is sure of that.

*

The cabin is... nice. There is little doubt about it. It looks and feels just that - nice.  
"Heya, angel, is there some mojo here? Some... I don't know, hospitality charms maybe?"  
Dean feels stupid just saying the words, but Cas only hums thoughtfully, pausing as he unpacks to cast an intent gaze around the space. His eyes flash for a brief moment, a little glimpse of his grace, manifested to be seen, and suddenly the charms and the hunt are the last things on Dean's mind. It only intensifies when Cas finishes his inspection of the walls and stops his eyes on Dean, head tilted in curiosity. 

"There are no charms that I can see without further testing... Dean."

His name in that voice, low and rumbling, makes Dean's head dizzy, just as it always has. Except this time, right now, finally, he doesn't need to push it down or fight it. He doesn't need to deny himself or his angel. There are also all those intriguing thoughts and fantasies about Cas’ wings that have been plaguing him since the talk with Jack...  
So he can step forward, crossing the scant space in between. He can cradle his angel's face in his palms. He can smile at him with all the tenderness that fills him. He can bow down and kiss Cas, feeling those lips open up to him eagerly, trading caresses, returning them in full.  
When they separate, Dean is breathless and giddy, still holding onto Cas, one hand on his jaw, another in his hair, and once again he is amazed that he is allowed this. But Cas only smiles, soft and content, resting his forehead against Dean's, palms sneaking under his shirt. 

"Dean."

"Yes?"

"Dean."

He laughs and Cas kisses him again, short little touches, and in between Cas whispers his name as if it is a prayer, a plea, a vow. It makes Dean's insides flutter and he can't find it in himself to care, he just presses in closer. They fall on the bed, right next to half-unpacked bag, Cas' breath hitching up, blue eyes laughing and sparkling, just on the verge of a glow. 

"Shouldn't we be working?" 

Cas is right, of course, but right this second all Dean cares about is chasing down Cas' smell with his lips and his tongue. He wants to distil it and make it his new cologne, take it with him everywhere, smell it in his dreams, slather himself with it in the waking hours. Instead he kisses and licks, and presses into the embrace, taking every last moment he can squeeze out.  
Then he gets up with a defeated sigh and gets back to checking out their place of residence for the next two weeks.  
They check for charms and hexbags first. Dean dutifully checks over the kitchen, at the same time mapping out the neatly organized layout and making a mental list of groceries they should probably acquire at some point.  
But the cabin seems to be completely normal, just wood and plastic and metal, no charms, wards or curses. Not even hidden doors or cameras or peeping holes, which is a very comforting realization.  
Or, at least, the cabin was normal before Cas, with Dean’s help, carefully draws the sigils and wards in invisible paint. They may not be needed, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.  
A shower is next, which takes a lot longer than it should because they simply cannot stop kissing. And touching. They don’t take it further, Dean is hesitant and Cas is seemingly content to take it at Dean’s pace. But eventually they have to get out, and Dean is just a little bit distracted by the wet curls of black, clinging to Cas' exposed neck when he doesn’t bother with a shirt.  
Then they unpack, and while Dean flips through the pamphlets, Cas sets up a laptop to update Sam on their arrival. Plus to check if they have any updates or new theories on what exactly could be going bump in the night in this part of the land. Sam does not have any updates (unsurprisingly) and needs them to do more thorough legwork on-site (again, unsurprisingly). The updates on Mary are also non-existent, but there seems to be some hope in a new lead, from Jack, of all people. He pops in during the call too, waving so hard Dean sees it across the room when he announces bright and earnest that he misses them.  
Dean opts to focus on the papers in hand, noting one with an ad for an upcoming event in two weeks; on the last day of their intended stay, the local version of a talent show. The theme is apparently "The Words of Love" and even though Dean feels nauseous just reading it, it also somehow tugs at him somewhere deep. Because Cas deserves somebody who can shower him with praise and all the sappy, romantic, chick flick bullshit he can possibly handle, and Dean is... Dean is not that person.  
Yet he’s still the one that Cas smiles at and on whose cheek he drops a quick kiss while passing by. He’s still the one he always comes back to, and Dean is way too selfish to just let it go and make him find somebody better. Because for him, Cas is that "better"--no, he's just "the best" and probably that sappy "only" too. So screw the universe, he's keeping Cas this time and he’s not letting go. 

"Well, let's go find that son of a bitch!"

"We don't know if it's a son, though."

"Well, yeah, it could be just a bitch, period."

He shrugs and Cas shakes his head, exasperated, amused, indulgent. He takes Dean’s hand again the second he finishes locking the door on their way out, and that's how they go. 

*

So, first off, the compound of the resort is fucking huge. Secondly, Dean hates it and loves it all at the same time. The nature around them is beautiful and vast with forest stretching outside little clean trails for miles and miles. Untouched, wild and gorgeous, and also probably filled to the brim with all kinds of bloodthirsty nightmares. On the other side is the lake though, the jagged shoreline of which is framed by narrow private beaches, cutting right into that same forest. The waters are deep and blue, reflecting the trees and the sky, again, probably a home for some monsters, but still so enticingly stunning.  
Dean really wants to shed his clothes again and go for a swim, preferably naked and with a particular angel in tow, just to see how blue of his eyes would look against the waters of that lake. He's also pretty sure that Cas would allow this if he asked, which is why he doesn't. They do have work to do, people to save, monsters to fight. Skinny-dipping can wait a day or two. Probably. Maybe.  
They also don't encounter anyone until they are back to the administrative building. Anyone human, that is. They do see a big outrageously fluffy, black cat lounging on a branch of an old oak and staring them down from the height of it. And, while Dean tries to win a staring match with the thing, Cas seems way too absorbed in examining the tree itself, or rather the weird deep grooves, going horizontally all around the alarmingly wide trunk of it.  
Dean loses the staring match with a loud sneeze, the cat looking disgustingly smug and swishing his tail side to side. 

"Frikkin’ cats... Hey, what's up? Something in that tree?"

"I'm... not sure. We should take pictures, just in case, it looks... Familiar somehow."

Dean shrugs and does just that, with cat's yellow eyes watching them all the while, frankly creeping him out more and more. But eventually Cas is satisfied with the number and angle of the pictures and they move on, leaving the tree and the cat behind. Except, Dean could swear he heard the cat mumbling something _in human speech_ when they are almost out of earshot, and he whips around only to find it curled up and seemingly asleep. 

"You... didn't hear that, I take it?"

"Hear what, Dean?"

"Um... Pretty sure that creepy cat just talked."

Cas does not question or calls him crazy, thankfully, only stares at the cat for a long moment, before gently guiding Dean away. 

"I think it's somehow connected to the tree, but it's best we do some research before going against... whatever it is. Agreed?"

"Yeah, sure. As long as it doesn't kill us first."

"Somehow, I don't think it wants to..."

Dean is not so sure on that one, but he still obediently walks, already doing a mental inventory of the weapons they brought. And trying to figure out which would be more comfortable to dispatch that tree with - axes first or just straight-up burning it?

*

It is sudden and a little jarring, when they turn the corner to the main administrative building and find themselves facing the giant, ceiling to floor windows. Behind them is a spacious room with a big round pool. It’s all but surrounded by people, simply lounging around or swimming. Most of them seem to be paired up or hang out in groups, straight, gay, and all possible mixes of other genders. There are a few lonely stragglers either reading or straight up napping in the pool chairs scattered around the space.  
It looks like a good place to get a read on the locals and learn the latest gossip, so they find the doors and go on in.  
The chatter picks up in volume when people notice them, but some incomprehensible melody playing in the background drowns out the specifics. That is until a clearly inebriated Latina woman bounces up to them, beaming with a wide smile. 

"Ohhh, newbies, aren't you! Hello and welcome!"

She is swift, if slightly uncoordinated, and almost manages to trap Dean in a hug, but another person stops her just in time with a firm grip on the tanned shoulder. 

"Hi there! I see you've met Arin, who's still having trouble remembering to ask for permission before hugging people..."

Arin smiles again, looking only slightly abashed, but does step away, giggling drunkenly and fixing a tight bun of brown curls back up from where it slid down from the weight of the water. 

"I do not mind hugging."

Dean only manages a startled look at Cas before Arin squeals and practically dives at him, squeezing his midsection with what looks like a painful force for anybody who isn't an angel. Cas only quirks his lips in a half smile, patting her on the back in return, and she looks content after finally releasing him and cuddling closer to the other person. 

"I like this one, Lance."

"I can see that... I'm sorry, again, they always get like that after a few too many drinks. I am Lance, nice to meet you...?" 

They extend their palm to Dean, smiling apologetically, but their grip on Arin's back is gentle and obviously loving, their closeness revealing familiarity Dean somewhat envies. He does not show it, adopting his best charming smile instead and accepting the handshake. It is firm, and he is left wondering how to actually address the person before him. They are tall, with dark warm skin shining with pink undertones in the sunbeams that are falling through the windows. In contrast, their long dreadlocks, styled in a high curling on itself contraption were dyed in purple, white and some are left naturally black. 

"Dean. And this is Castiel." 

"Like an angel?!"

Arin perks up from where she looked almost dozing off, blinking up at Cas with wide amazed eyes, making Dean chuckle. 

"Exactly like an angel. Honestly, sometimes I'm sure I can see his wings and halo."

"I do not have a halo, Dean, how many times do I have to tell you?"

Dean laughs as Cas grumbles, the couple giggling with them too, ignorant of the true joke. They all settle near a bar, Dean immediately snagging two perfectly cold beers. They talk, with Dean carefully manoeuvering the conversation around the general atmosphere around the resort and the most recent deaths, but he finds himself constantly drifting closer to Cas. Their knees are always touching, they sit so close, and Dean keeps finding himself somehow returning his hands to Cas, distractedly smoothing fingers down his arm, or clapping his thigh or shoulder, or just intertwining their fingers... And he can't stop, can't remember how to stop himself from it, how he did it before.  
And Cas seems to just take it in stride, laying down his fair share of touching too. His hands feel solid and warm, averting Dean's attention every time, commanding it. One time he finds himself drifting off while Cas just rubs his thigh up and down, over and over again, the rhythm constant and lulling him into a dreamy state of comfort. 

"Fresh out of the closet, huh?" 

The comment drags Dean out of his sleepy haze, defensive statement already on his lips along with an insult, but the man who said it looks genuinely apologetic and a little scared, when he meets his stare and Cas' fingers dig into Dean’s leg, a silent request for restraint. 

"Hey, hey, easy there, man... I didn't mean it as a bad thing, I totally know the feeling. Good on you for making it this far. Sorry."

The stranger moves on with one last regretful look and a nod, but Dean's mood is already spoiled and he decides to use the continuous grumbling of his stomach to move this along. Except, both Arin and Lance wear matching sympathetic looks when he turns to them and Cas is worried, a question already on his lips, but left unspoken after a look from Dean. 

“Don’t you dare worry, Dean! This is a safe space. And it is okay. Whenever you decide to come out, or even if you don’t decide to do it all the way, or at all… It’s okay. You are okay just the way you are.” 

Arin’s tone is fierce as are her eyes, and she carefully squeezes Dean’s wrist when he gives her a nod of permission. It helps, somehow, the words and the touch, with Cas at his side and Lance looking like they want to hug Dean now. He manages a smirk, halfway to sincere, and actually hugs Arin. She holds him as long as he allows, whispering something soothing in Spanish or maybe Portuguese, he can’t tell. But his smile is a lot more genuine when she let Dean go and he sinks back to his chair. 

“Thank you. So, is there food in this place or are we supposed to starve?” 

Everybody laughs, and their new acquaintances show them the food courts. Before that, Cas tugs at his wrist gently, a questioning look of concern, and Dean simply kisses him. It’s sweet and tender, a mutual assurance that they are alright. They will be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, text _all in cursive_ \- means flashbacks,  
> dialogue in <<"quotations like that">> \- translated from Russian, or another language (indicated which). You'll see a lot of such dialogue in duplicate versions of chapters, where the characters converse in Russian.  
>  **bold text** \- song lyrics, either sang or spoken.  
> text in [["quotations like that"]] - texting between characters.

They find a free table at the food section, big enough for four of them and they stay for dinner, chatting and drinking, Dean and Cas getting to know the couple a bit better. Gently, but firmly, Lance asks to address them with they/them pronouns only, while Arin is fine with any mix of she and them. They also are open to probably awkward, but earnest questions about that whole deal, and Dean is left with a little bit more education and understanding after.   
As it turns out, they’ve both lived together for three years, running a youth center for LBTQA+ teens and young adults, providing shelter, counseling and dance lessons for everybody who needs them. The time seems to fly in their company, both of them quick-witted and Lance especially swift to make a joke, often a rather dirty one. They make a pact with Dean for a little contest on the dirtiest joke that they can come up with, before Arin starts to fidget nervously, looking at the sky.  
It's barely sundown, the sky is just starting to turn orange on the horizon on the edge of the evergreen trees, but people seem to be rather in a hurry to get out. Arin hurries Lance too, breaking up their conversation with Dean, polite, but firm. They wave goodbye, before disappearing onto one of the paths to the cabins, Dean making note of residents not being so keen to stay out in the dark.

"Would you like to take a walk with me, Dean?"

Cas' eyes are soft and serious, as he extends his hand, palm up, as if it's not a walk, but a frikkin dance formal, and Dean laughs soundlessly at the ridiculousness of it.  
He still accepts the hand.  
They get up together, this time Dean lacing their fingers himself. The battle in his mind is brief and fruitless, and he gives over to his desires, wrapping Cas in a hug the second they are far enough away from the chairs to not stumble into them. He hides his face into the crook of his angel's neck, breathing him in once again. After a whole day out, there’s less scent of detergent from his clothes and more Cas, with maybe a hint of the pine and chlorine from the pool. It's exhilarating, to be able to just hug him like that, in full view of anyone, not being afraid of judgment or odd looks. He doesn't need to explain anything or make excuses, he can just... Breathe Cas in, feeling the strong warm body against him, fingers, calloused from the blade, holding onto his waist tightly. And maybe drop a soft kiss right above the collar of Cas' shirt, feeling him shiver with it.

"A walk does sounds nice."

Blue eyes are dark and dangerous when he looks in them again, trapping him in place with a promise, and it is Dean who shivers this time. But they still have some work to do, so walking it is.

"Is everything okay with you two? How is Cloud Nine treating you so far?"

Dean is quite frankly startled and a little bit disturbed at the woman--the clerk from before--that managed to sneak up on them both, it seems. Even if they were quite... distracted.

"Thank you, Vasilisa, everything is fine."

It is Cas who answers, calm, but his tone so frigidly polite, it is clear her interruption is not welcome. Dean nods along, looking at the woman properly for the first time. Her name suggests that she's not American at least, but her English is smooth without a hint of an accent. Her face is youthful and a rosy blush accentuates the paleness of it, skin so light, as if she has never walked in the sun. She also seems to perpetually exist in the state of the charming smile, watery blue eyes big and clear, straight fair blond hair neatly tied into a long thick braid snaking over her shoulder. There's something in the whole look that somehow puts Dean ill at ease, but he can't quite put his finger on it and it's possible that it's just his own insecurities playing up again.

"Any suggestions for a walk?"

Dean doesn't really care, but asks anyway, since they should really do another sweep rather than enjoy the views. And, as a local she might have some pointers to less obvious places they should check. Vasilisa looks pensive for a minute, before giving them both a slightly unsettling appraising look and nodding.

"Well, it's not really for the faint of heart, but you two look like you can handle it. If you go down the main path right there, and then take the Staircase to Heaven, you can get to an overlook with an absolutely gorgeous view!"

She winks at them conspiratorially, not caring for their mutual uneasy twitches at the mention of the name.

"That sounds... intriguing. Thank you again, Vasilisa. We shall hurry, before it's too dark."

"Yes... Do be careful in the dark. You never know what's out there."

Her last words hit them in their backs as they're already walking away, and as Dean turns back to her, just for a second, he could swear he sees her hair turn gray, rather than blond. But it's gone so fast, that he just nods, reminding himself to tell Cas later, because it could've been just a trick of light from the setting sun. But it could’ve been something else entirely.

*

The aforementioned trail is easy to find, but it is as challenging to climb as the clerk had mentioned. Cas is, of course, mostly unaffected, scouting ahead for loose stones and treacherous roots, and keeping an eye on Dean, who trudges behind. It's not more than half an hour of a climb, but the hunter curses it and his job a thousand times over for taking him to such places. Sam would love it, he thinks, but Dean just breathes out with relief when the near vertical climb, barely helped by steps, vaguely shaped with stones and packed earth, ends.  
And then when they step out of the last of the trees, his breath catches for a totally different reason.  
Because it does look a lot like Heaven. Or what people probably imagine when they think about it. What it should be, perhaps.   
They stand on a narrow cliff, free of greens, guarded by a low flimsy railing that does nothing to hide the startling beauty behind it. The sundown is in its prime, and all the sky, so vast and close from up here is painted with a blinding kaleidoscope of orange, yellow, purple and blues. The lake below just adds to the brilliancy. Its shiny surface reflecting the spectacle from above, but there it mixes with deep greens of the forest, the contrast stark and alluring. Hues and colors shift and change minutely, Dean's eye barely able to catch up and he breathes out awed and unthinking.

"Wow... That's beautiful."

"Yes."

Something in Cas' tone makes Dean turn, barely tearing his stare away from nature's show, only to find his angel paying it no mind at all. No, Cas is staring right at him, and Dean can't describe his gaze as anything other than adoring, just the thought of it making his cheeks flare with heat. He already wants to laugh it off, or maybe just turn away and maybe not look at Cas anymore at all to escape the embarrassing feeling, but he's not even allowed that.  
Cas surges forward, hand steady and confident, cradling Dean's face, keeping him in place, keeping him facing Cas, and then he kisses Dean, tender and achingly sweet. Dean doesn't care for any sunsets or monsters just then, because Cas is right here, holding him and professing his love as loudly as if he shouted it. Dean drowns in it, craves it more and more, his head swimming. His lips tingle where Cas bites him playfully, a tiny moan escaping Dean's throat, and getting lost between them. When Cas finally releases him, just barely, still so close his warm breath fans over Dean's wet lips, he realizes they are embracing again. Pressed close from hip to shoulders, arms tangled in each others clothes.

"You think we can just stay here? I really don't wanna climb all the way down that damn cliff."

Cas laughs easily, happy, so beautiful and carefree it makes Dean's heart clench in a desperate hope to be able to keep him like that. To somehow turn their cursed lives around, twist from the suffocating clutches of fate, so that Cas could always just spend his days laughing. And maybe also kissing Dean just like that, still sweet, but with more intent now, deep and thorough, like he's committing his taste to memory with every sweep of his tongue.  
And Dean squeaks--a sounds he'll never admit to making and would kill anybody who tried to argue--when Cas suddenly and very literally sweeps his off his feet, lifting him into an effortless bridal carry.

"Put me down! Cas! What the hell?!"

"I thought you didn't want to climb down yourself? I'm just helping out."

And with a widest shit-eating grin he carries Dean back to the trail, dutifully and stubbornly following through this ridiculous affair, no matter how much Dean yells and begs. In the end Dean just hangs on, though silent and grumpy and absolutely not enjoying it, oh no. There is no enjoyment for Dean, no matter how heady and pretty much dreamy it feels to be carried like that. As if he weighs nothing, secure and comfortable in angel’s arms. Dean stifles a groan when he notices a barely there shadows of the wings, stretched out behind Cas' back in the evening gloom. Not quite visible, but still there, helping to balance along their descent.  
He feels vengeful and mischievous, raking his fingers down Cas' shoulders, lower, to the shoulder-blades, running straight into the phantom slick feathers. They are cool to the touch and tingly, yet somehow still warming him up. He cards through the feathers, follows the muscles underneath, grinning over a bitten lip, barely holding in a giggle when Cas' stumbles slightly, groaning.

"Stop that, unless you want me to drop you. Or both of us."

"Nah... I know you won't let me fall."

He stops though, words somehow much more meaningful than he thought about them, but still ringing with undeniable truth.

"I trust you, Cas."

He meets his angel's eyes sure and unafraid right as they stop at the bottom of the path and Cas lowers him back to the ground, not breaking the contact. Dean wants to kiss him so bad, already leaning in... But then he has the sick feeling of being watched, and swivels around, fully expecting to find some monster staring at them back from the dark.  
Instead, there is only the cat from earlier, yellow eyes nearly glowing with the reflected light of the dying sunset.

"Shoo. Go away."

Cat stares at Dean, unimpressed and almost mocking and Dean has half a mind to just shoot the thing so it won't scare him that much again.

"Come on, Dean. Let's return to the cabin, we still have to update Sam."

Cas tugs him along the path that is quickly getting lost in the encroaching darkness, but the angel's eyes see through it easily. He leads them both without much trouble and with Dean stumbling over roots only a couple of times.   
Once, Dean turns around to find the damn cat following suit, its black fur barely visible in the night but eyes still glimmering occasionally. Still, Cas seems unconcerned, so Dean shoves his hunter's instincts tingling to the side, resolute to bring it up again when they're alone in the cabin and not walking through the woods, with no weapons and a few feet away from the potential monster.

*

Except when they do get there, Sam still has nothing. They send pictures of the tree and the cat, Sam flipping through them thoughtfully, jotting something down, while Jack picks into the camera, beaming with a smile.

"Are you having a good time?"

"Yes."   
"It's a hunt, not a vacation."

They answer at the same time, Dean turning to Cas and frowning, because Sam dares to snort with a not-that-quiet "sure it is", and Jack just looks confused.

"It is a hunt, and it's not going _that_ well... Jack."

Dean sees Cas deflate just a little beside him, shoulders drooping even though his face stays passive and curses his defensiveness silently.

"But otherwise, it's not _bad_ , I guess."

He mumbles, standing up to escape Sam's brows shooting up high and Jack’s giggling, and he needs a drink now. Even though Cas' strengthening back to the proud puffed out chest is warming him up from the inside.

"Well, that tree does look rather suspicious, I agree, even though I don't recognize if they’re actually magical symbols or something else without further research. But... Dean, you said, there was a cat sitting on that tree?"

"Yeah, a big black cat. It followed us later on too, when we went to that overlook Vasilissa mentioned."

"Vasilissa..."

Sam chews on his lip, raking his fingers through that ridiculous mane of hair in frustration.

"Vasilisa." - Cas corrects calmly. "It is a rather old Slavic name. I believe the resort must be run or owned by somebody of that descent, considering that and the Russian music playing all the time."

"Ha. That reminds me of _something_ , but I just can't remember quite yet. We'll work on it. Keep your eyes open and don't get killed, okay?"

They say their goodbyes, Sam thankfully too immersed into the research to tease Dean much, so very soon it's quiet again. They are alone, done for the night, unless of course something happens.   
Dean feels jittery and restless, the unsolved case looming with vague threats. But more so it’s Cas' presence, close, with them finally alone and soon sharing one bed that tugs his attention in a totally different direction. Dean debates a coffee, or something stronger, maybe just straddling Cas right there on the couch where he sits, still fiddling with the laptop and kissing him senseless.

"I'm gonna take a shower," - he announces instead, escaping to the bathroom before he hears a response.  
He breathes out heavily and shakes his head, trying to keep himself under control, to be professional, since they still haven't caught the thing killing people. They’re nowhere even close to identifying it. But as he patters around barefoot, using the facilities and slowly shucking off clothes, his thoughts stubbornly cling to the other reason he even found this case.  
Cas.  
It always comes down to him.  
For so many years he was Dean's obsession, unspoken, denied, buried right along with pain and unwanted memories. Except, he was always wanted, too much even, too strongly for Dean to acknowledge to himself, let alone to anybody else. He spent so much time running from it, and now that he doesn't have to, he can't help himself but always think about it.  
About Cas.  
About his eyes, and lips, and strong arms. He steps into a warm jets of the shower, his eyes closing to return to that moment, when Cas held him, and carried him. How those arms would feel holding him with a different intent, carrying him to another high.   
He's so absorbed by his fantasy, distractedly running soaped up palms across his chest, imagining it to be Cas' hands, that he doesn’t notice the _actual_ angel right beside him in real life. Only when the shower curtain opens and Cas slips in the shower right alongside Dean does he turn, startled. Cas has to catch him by the waist hurriedly, because Dean is surprised and half hard, and it's slippery, but Cas is right there. Already he’s sliding the curtain back into place, shielding them from the world in their little bubble of heat, water and steam.

"You were thinking very loudly, Dean."

It sounds like an accusation somehow, but Dean's automatic protests die on his lips, when he finally has a presence of mind to actually look at Cas. He's almost blinded by all the naked skin suddenly right there for his perusal, but he's also not given much time for it. Cas presses forward, until Dean is plastered along the wall, cold tile under his back and Cas, hot, wet and glorious at his front. He gasps when he feels Cas' already hard cock drag along his thigh, and the angel takes that as the opportunity to claim his mouth in a dizzying kiss.  
He takes his time, slowly and methodically driving Dean right to the edge of desperation with his taste, with little hungry bites and nips and hands roaming all over Dean's body, exploring, teasing.

"Fuck, Cas."

His hips grind forward all by themselves when his angel digs his fingers into the meat of his ass. All Dean can do is moan helplessly at the onslaught of sensations and thoughts, and Cas biting his neck, leaving bruises for sure.

"Is that what you want?"

Dean twitches in his angel's hold, screwing his eyes shut for the moment, allowing himself to picture it. How tight Cas might be, all sprawled under Dean, limbs and wings, just taking his cock... He chokes on another moan when there is a slick, feathery pressure of the wing sneaking between them, sliding up his dick in a tingly caress. It's suddenly all that he wants, just more of those tingles all over, stronger and just more...  
Cas must be reading at least some of his thoughts, because he groans, low and helpless too, and then Dean is enveloped in the shivery embrace of the unseen wings. They drag along his sides and arms and legs, leaving chilly tingles everywhere, lighting up his nerves from within with energy and something unfathomable. They are chilly, not giving off cold, but contrasting brightly with the running water and Cas' heated skin. And then Cas moves them, presses stronger, rolling power underneath slick softness, and they stretch and bend, raking down Dean's chest. Over his nipples and lower, over his dick again, and he comes with Cas' name on his lips, because it is too much, too good.  
His angel holds him through it, wings falling back to glide against Dean’s sides, and there is instead a calloused palm, wringing every drop of Dean's pleasure out of him with quick sharp strokes. His moans get swallowed in a kiss, which is sloppy and disjointed and somehow even better for it. He can feel Cas' control slipping in the hungry movements of his lips and he wants to see it shutter completely.  
Right after his knees stop shaking though, or when the ringing in his head stops. And maybe when he feels a little less drunk on all the post-orgasm tingles that just don't stop, because Cas still has his wings wrapped around him.

"Cas..."

He whispers it right into the kiss, allowing himself just one more, or maybe two, before turning and burying his face right into the invisible wing on his right. His whole face erupts in tingles, as if from a low-level electric current, but he just nuzzles in experimentally, listening to Cas' whine. It's a good sound and he wants to hear more, so he goes with the first thing to pop into his mind. He nibbles on it, teeth gentle but determined, right through the feathers to the flesh that must hold them. Lightning erupts on his tongue, just as Cas practically falls into him, suddenly shaky and keening loudly.

"Okay, okay... Hey, sweetheart, how about we move this to bed, hm?"

It takes a little bit of poking and goading and when Cas finally lifts his head up, face slack with lust, his eyes aren't just blue, they shine with the luminous light of his grace for a moment. He blinks and it's gone, but it's enough for Dean to shudder in fevered desire hoping to bring it back, to see it shine brighter when Cas will be so far gone he can't hide it from him.

"Come one, let's get dry and lie down. You can stretch them there."

That finally gets the angel moving, but they still end up tangling limbs and lips along the way, but as Dean is slightly calmer and clear-headed, he has the presence of mind to hurry.  
He maneuvers Cas onto the bed, until he's on his stomach, hugging the pillow and squirming impatiently. So, Dean straddles those fidgeting hips, smirking at the gasp that elicits. His smile softens when he meets the annoyed gaze of very blue and very human--for now--eyes and smooths his palms down Cas' back, feeling the muscles shift underneath.

"Can you... Make them visible? You know, without my eyes burning out. That'd probably put a damper on the mood."

"Probably?" - Cas chuckles and some of the still invisible feathers glide along Dean's calf.

"Just a bit... You are almost blindingly hot as is, so wouldn't make that much of a difference."

Dean blames his still high-on-happy-sex-hormones brain for letting that many words slip, but Cas straight up blushes at the praise and Dean can't find it in himself to regret it. Not until Cas' face falls a little, a closed off expression taking the place of shyness, and Dean frowns and leans in closer on instinct, not liking the change at all.

"It's not... me, though. It's just a vessel."

Cas turns his gaze into the pillow, tensing with the admission, not really sad, but more resigned. Dean can't help but laugh folding himself over Cas, dropping a kiss between his shoulder-blades before catching his eyes.

"I meant _you_ , Cas. Who you are, your personality, not this body. I mean, sure, dude was good to look at, but you..."

He pauses, trying to find words for all the swirling confusion of affection and yearning filling his chest.

" _You_ make it hot. The person, that I... love."

He finishes on a whisper, words still too big and clunky in his mouth. It's worth it to see that glow that is pure Cas light up in blue eyes again, his smile soft as tension melts away from his body. Cas lifts himself up on his elbows a bit, turning his head, and rewards Dean with the sweetest kiss, quick, but somehow lingering, satisfying in a way that not even the most passionate make out sessions can be.

"I love you, Dean. Please, sit up straight."

It’s a rather sudden change of topic, but Dean complies wondering why... or should he just get off completely, or...  
And then everything falls away, unimportant and distant, as the most glorious sight appears before him in the form of Cas' wings, real and very much not invisible anymore.  
They still shimmer with something out of this world, but Dean can see them, can see the shadows they cast across the floor where the long tips stretch from the bed, which isn't wide enough to contain all that majesty that is Cas' wings.

"They're beautiful..."

The word feels ridiculously insufficient, but he can barely think, let alone speak, fingers already twitching to touch, to feel... He stops just centimeters away, barely restraining himself.

"Can I touch them, Cas?"

"Of course... Please."

And while he starts confident and indulgent, Cas finishes pleading and gasping, because Dean is already sliding his fingers through the feathers, gentle and curious.  
The angel under him twitches, wings fluttering slightly, but not pulling away, instead, pressing into his human's exploring hands.  
Dean smiles and obliges. It's not really a hardship, but a privilege.  
The wings are also really, really pretty, just as Dean thought they would be. He had always imagined them black, just like the shadows he saw that night in the barn so many years ago, but the reality is so much more amazing.  
While there is some black, most of Cas' wings are bright and radiant blue. They start off with soft gray-ish hues at the base, where they seem to just appear from Cas' human skin. The feathers there are small and smooth, so close together, fitting seamlessly, looking closer to fur. They are smooth and silky under his touch and almost hot with skin and flesh so close under them, coiled power reeling to be set free.  
Cas breathes out, shuddering, when he squeezes, massaging with careful circle movements along each wing, going outward. And as he goes further, they open further, startling Dean once again.  
There is more blue, vivid, " _indigo_ " - his mind supplies, and the shorter feathers cover the length of the wings until the middle is a gorgeous gradient of color, looking almost purple before reaching pristine, white tips.  
The lower feathers, long and wide, are much darker. Dean can barely discern the hues, glistening and shimmering, swirls of black with more purple, and the deepest dark blue, like starless nights, except there are stars right there, with more white at the ends.  
Cas shifts, restless, murmuring his name, snapping Dean from his reverie and into action.  
His new objective for the night is to discover how he can turn his angel into a moaning mess with just those wings.  
Turns out, it doesn't take much at all.  
Cas' wings are sensitive all over, and Dean quickly learns he likes the touches lighter for the feathers themselves and firmer on the fleshy parts of the wings. So he alternates between teasing, gentle, reverent on the former, and firmer caresses for the latter.  
Everything is still tingly, but somehow a little less so, perhaps muted with them being closer to reality. Instead, there is heat, energy pouring off, almost sparkling as Dean cards carefully through the inky shimmering feathers right below the bend of the wing. Cas moans, the sound loud and wanton, barely hidden by the pillow he has his face smashed into.  
Dean leans in closer, thinking of asking him to stop hiding, or maybe tease a little with something dirty whispered into his ear... But he gets distracted by the shimmer, slicker than before, somewhere between all the trembling beauty. It smells different too now--fresh mint turning deeper, tangy. It seems to come from that slick something that looks like oil, dripping a little from below the middle covers. And when Dean, intrigued, digs his fingers in there the scent bursts with bitter and rich tone of absinthe.  
And with it, goes Cas, thrashing violently with a desperate keen, almost throwing Dean off, who grasps for purchase on the closest thing.  
The wings.  
He squeezes right at the bend, and under his palms that oil flows freely, its aroma so strong it makes Dean lightheaded and that sets Cas off, wings quivering, his body writhing, while Dean just hangs on. It's the pleading whine of his name that sounds as if it was torn from Cas, that gets him moving.  
When he lets go of the wings completely though, sitting up on his knees, Cas thrashes back, confused and sluggish.

"No, no... Please don't go... Dean..."

"Hey, hey. I'm right here, sweetheart. I just want you to turn over, come on, can you do it? For me?"

Cas nods, barely catching a breath, and still moaning weakly every time Dean touches the wings, helping to rearrange them, until Cas is splayed on his back.  
His eyes shine, unchanging and steady, the bluish glow of grace unchecked, so strong, Dean's sure the subtle flickering of the lights is not just a trick of his mind.  
He barely cares for that though, when there is a desperate horny angel below him, wings glistening with both oil and grace now. Cas’ erection laying heavily on his belly, hard and flushed, a drop of precome sliding down toned stomach. He's trembling, writhing ever so slightly, unable to keep still, slick feathers fluttering over the sheets, closer to Dean.

"Just look at you... So pretty..."

Cas smiles, a sheepish pleased quirk of his lips, that Dean can't help but kiss, deep and hungry. His own arousal is back at full force, thrumming in his blood with the echoes of Cas all around him.  
But, he has more pressing matters for now and just as he claims his angel's mouth, his fingers are digging back into the wings, with only one target in mind.  
Those sweet spots near the bend that keep leaking the fragrant oil. Cas practically vibrates under his hands, clutching at his back, clawing into it in a frenzy. Dean only shuffles slightly, sliding a knee between Cas' thighs, grinding down to meet his instinctual thrusts, as his fingers keep rubbing down the oil along the feathers. He can see the lights flickering for real now, and every glass object around them is trembling and ringing in its place, right along to the rhythm of Cas' lewd mewls.   
He only tightens his slick fingers and hot electric tingles run all the way up to his shoulders. He rakes his fingertips through the oil dipping up and down the wings, scraping gently with his blunt nails, the touch almost lost in all the tangy liquid dripping down.  
Cas retaliates with his fingers clasping Dean's ass, a little bit too much force behind it, totally out of control, making Dean moan the angel's name into his ear. And that is all Cas needs, it seems, everything shuttering and exploding around them and Cas is exploding with light and force too.   
It's luck that Dean has his eyes closed, riding the waves of please and heat, when it hits him.  
It's _grace_ , and _Castiel_ , and _might_ , expanding out of the angel with a soundless cry. Dean can feel it passing through him, visceral and fierce, tearing another orgasm out of him, much stronger than the last. He curls into Cas from the intensity of it, nearly sobbing with ecstasy that edges on pain, but then it passes, spreading outwards through the room.   
Dean whines at the enveloping touch of the wings, searing hot and wet, absinthe and mint and lightning taking up all of his senses for a second, and then they are pretty much showered in pieces of glass and some other trinkets, totally destroyed by the outburst of grace.  
Dean heaves a wheezing little laugh, for somebody was surely preparing for this, warding the cabin beforehand to contain and mask angel emissions, but he doesn't laugh long. Because without a place to go, all the energy just echoes from the walls and returns, diluted but more prolonged. This time the rapture coming in waves and waves of pure bliss and Dean cries out before passing out because that _is_ too much.  
He comes back to the land of the living and the conscious with a groan, exhausted beyond belief, bone tired. Yet those same bones still feel like very pleased jelly and he can work with that. There is also surprisingly little liquid...or anything, just Cas still beneath him, clean and warm and the light and cool embrace of the wings around him.   
The tingles are gone, but the faint aroma of absinthe remains, and when Dean lazily cracks open his eyes, everything is dark except the faint glow of the wings. It's not the whole wings either, but unseen--before, in the light--grooves going all throughout them. Like a web of blue, pulsing and thrumming with life and what is probably Cas' life force or whatever. It's mesmerizing and somehow even more intimate a sight than the wings themselves, as if it's a secret only he's allowed to witness.

"Are you okay?"

His throat does not particularly want to cooperate at the moment, so Dean just nods and reaches for a kiss, almost missing Cas' lips in the near-darkness. He stifles a giggle, because Dean Winchester does not giggle under any circumstances.   
Even after literally fucking the lights out of the angel. And himself, apparently, in some sense. He should probably be worried about all the destruction and the damages bill they'll have to pay, but he's too sleepy and too happy.  
So he simply burrows closer into the hot-n-cold embrace of his lover and slips into a restful and easy sleep, for once not filled with nightmares, but only shimmering blue lights and the phantom scents of mint and absinthe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas' wings were heavily based on the colors of the Blue Jays - the birds this fic owes quite a lot, with all their beauty being a huge inspiration.   
> Though Jays have rather round wings, Cas' wings are a different shape, much longer and more narrow. 
> 
> Stay tuned for the next Monday and updates.   
> The plot incoming! :3

**Author's Note:**

> And here we are!  
> I hope you like it and stay tuned for next Monday. :3  
> Every kudos and comment, really, all the love gives me life.


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